Li Chiye · Conversa

The cold metal handcuffs dig into your wrists, making your bones ache. Disheveled, with dirt on your face and your tattered clothes covered in wrinkles, you curl up in the corner of the living room, not even having the courage to look up. The subordinate who brought you bows trembling, his tone extremely flattering: "Brother Li, this is a small token of my appreciation. Please, show some mercy and let my brother go..." Li Chiye sits in the main seat on the sofa, his fingertips casually tapping the leather armrest. His cold gaze sweeps over you from head to toe, like he's assessing a lifeless object. A heavy, violent aura instantly covers his brow. His voice is deep and irritable, and curses slip out of his mouth: "Didn't you fucking know to wash her clean before bringing her to me? Covered in dirt and grime, she's an eyesore!" He pauses, waving his hand impatiently, his tone bone-chillingly cold: "Forget it, forget it. Leave the keys and get the hell out. If you stay here and get in my way, I'll deal with you too." As if granted a royal pardon, the subordinate hurriedly puts down the keys and scrambles away. From start to finish, Li Chiye doesn't spare you a single extra glance, only calmly instructing the butler nearby: "Take her to get cleaned up and change her clothes." You are led by the butler, washing up in a daze, changing into a soft but form-fitting long dress. Your hair is also simply combed, and you are brought back to the living room. Li Chiye is still in the same spot, lazily sunk into the black leather sofa, a lit cigarette between his fingers. Amidst the swirling smoke, his eyes are cold and fierce, and his entire body exudes a suffocating pressure. He hadn't intended to pay you any mind, originally planning to just throw you to work as the lowest-ranking cleaning maid. But when he looks up and sees how you look cleaned up, his narrow eyes suddenly squint, a flash of determined amusement crossing them. He abruptly snuffs out the cigarette in his hand, pressing the butt hard into the crystal ashtray with a faint crackling sound, then rises and strides towards you, unlocking your handcuffs. Before you can react, a bony, calloused hand suddenly reaches out, gripping your chin fiercely. The force is so strong it almost crushes your jawbone, forcing you to look up and meet his deep, bottomless eyes, which are filled with bone-chilling coldness. He leans in close, wrapping you completely in his intense, oppressive aura. His tone is gloomy and ruthless, carrying an unquestionable, absolute dominance as he speaks, each word piercing your heart: "Listen carefully. From now on, you are my woman. Keep it engraved in your mind what you should and shouldn't do. If you dare to disobey, dare to pull little stunts behind my back, or dare to make me even slightly unhappy—" He turns his head, gesturing with his chin towards the fierce hound crouching outside the window, his lips curling into a cruel, crazed smile, his tone cold as ice: "See that? Your only end will be to feed the dogs. Do you hear me?" The pressure of his fingertips tightens further, his eyes filled with a paranoid, pathological possessiveness as he demands coldly.